


All Is Better with Glasses

by belovedstill



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cas works at the optician's store, Castiel is such an awkward cutie, Dean in Glasses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedstill/pseuds/belovedstill
Summary: In his entire career, Castiel has seen many handsome men buying more or less appealing frames. But this one,oh Lord,this one… AU in which Cas works at the optician's store and it's time for Dean to collect his new glasses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> continuation of finally uploading my old drabbles on here. Originally posted on [my tumblr.](http://casinthongs.tumblr.com/)

Cas is going to kill Anna.

In fact, he’s going to kill not only her but each and every one of the five people who work at the optician’s with him.

They all were there a week ago when the Winchester brothers walked into the store, one ridiculously tall and the other grumpy as hell, making sure to let everybody know that he didn’t need glasses. At all.

They also had the doubtful pleasure (doubtful for him; he’s sure his coworkers had a blast) of seeing Castiel make a complete idiot out of himself.

He’s not even mad that they didn’t help him when he struggled with filling out an order for one of the men’s glasses, with both the Winchesters at the desk when he tried to focus on it. It wasn’t the tall one that made Cas so nervous he kept missing keys on his keyboard, having to backspace quite a lot. It was the green-eyed one. Damn, those freckles and voice, and _eyes_ made him babble like a high schooler with a crush so gross it probably caused diseases. Or, at least, this is how Anna described how he acted during the whole visit.

Just great.

But he’s not angry about any of this; oh no, it was his own fault, looking into the green eyes a bit too long. No. He’s mad that now, a week later, when one of the Winchesters walks into the room, suddenly there’s nobody around but Cas, leaving him to deal with the most beautiful man he has ever seen standing right in front of him, smiling.

Oh God, somebody just shoot him…

Castiel clears his throat and stands just the bit straighter. He can do this.

“Hello, how can I help you?” he asks, as if he didn’t wake up this morning knowing very well that the Winchester man – Dean, as the prescription for his glasses said – was going to walk into the store.

“I’m here to get the glasses,” Dean says, leaning forward and squinting at the name tag pinned to Castiel’s shirt, before moving away again. “Castiel. You were the one who helped me and my brother with the order, right?”

The Novak nods his head, probably faster than he should, if the heat spreading over his neck is anything to go by. “The package should be right here, let me have a look,” he rushes, pulling random drawers open, losing his mind when there’s nothing even remotely box-looking in them. If it’s not in there, the glasses are probably in the storage, which would be stupid because he clearly remembers getting them out of it himself and leaving them on the—

He’s such a moron, he curses in his mind, closing the drawer and reaching to the box that’s sitting on the desk, right where he left it. If it could laugh at him, he bets it would.

He puts the package in front of Dean, trying not to give in the urge to just hide. “If I remember correctly, you paid for the order already,” he says. Maybe if he uses his professional tone, he’ll save his face at least a little.

Dean nods with a smile and shows him a bill with the logo of the Heavenly Vision optician’s store, clearly stating the purchase. “Yeah, I did. Thanks a lot.” He hides the document after Cas takes a thorough look at it, and pulls the box closer, checking it out.

Before the man can even think of leaving, Castiel finally remembers that he’s working here, goddamnit, he’s done that many times before. There are procedures he needs to stick to.

He tries to will his stupid heart to beat a bit slower when he recites the usual formula. “We strongly advise our clients to try the glasses on before leaving the store, just to make sure that they’re alright.”

Dean blinks at him but shrugs and unpacks the box. It takes a good minute or two before he finally takes the glasses into his hands, but when he does, he clears his throat, mutters, “Alright, don’t make fun of me,” and carefully slides them onto his nose.

Castiel loses his breath.

Usually, regardless of his—liking to glasses (“It’s called a _fetish_ ,” Gabe always corrects him), people look almost alien to him when they try them on for the first time.

In his entire career, Castiel has seen many handsome men, buying more or less appealing frames. But this one, _oh Lord,_ this one…

Dean looks simply _gorgeous_ with the glasses on, beautiful more than anything, and believe him when Cas says that he physically cannot stop staring, because he really can’t.

The man is looking around the store, whistling in that low voice of his, nodding, _smiling,_ and then he turns to the desk again and—

“Holy shit,” they both say at the same time, eyes wide open as they stare at each other. The green of Dean’s eyes looks even fresher now, more vibrant than first spring grass in the sunlight.

Somebody giggles somewhere to his left, cut silent by a sound of hand slapping against lips that follows soon after. It’s enough to attract attention, though.

Five people are bundled against the cracked open door to the staff room, only heads visible, one on top of the other, on top of another… Anna is on the very bottom, Samandriel’s head resting on her fiery hair – he’s the one who’s giggling, his face pink from the full body laugh he’s desperately trying to hold in. Then comes Hannah, Gabriel, and Gadreel, and it’s Gadreel’s hand that’s keeping Samandriel as quiet as possible. The moment they all notice blue and green eyes on them, Hannah lets out a panicked squeak and the door shuts closed.

Both men hear several quiet _owws_ before silence washes over the room again.

“That, uh,” Dean speaks, fiddling a bit with his glasses, “friends of yours?”

Castiel glares at the door. “Not for much longer.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at Dean again. His heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest, pumping blood to his cheeks, as if the whole situation isn’t embarrassing enough.

Dean’s shoulders are shaking when Cas finally decides to look at his face again. “My brother is like that, too,” he says, chuckling. Laughter suits his voice well when it curls around it.

The sound of it adds another shade to Castiel’s already pink cheeks.

“He can be embarrassing, too?”

Dean snorts, “He stayed in the car so I could make a fool of myself again. Alone, this time.” He clears his throat, then, and adds in a voice that sounds much more like his brother’s, “ _I’m not gonna get his number for you, you’re an adult, you can do this yourself._ ”

Cas chortles, and nearly chokes on air when Dean’s words truly sink in. He’s staring again, he knows, but did Dean really just…?

“So… I’d really—you know. That’d be amazing if you gave me your number,” Dean mumbles, biting on one of his full, flushed lips. Not that Cas’s looking at them, of course. “And maybe we could grab a coffee or something some day.” He glances up from under his lashes, and hurries with, “If you want to, of course.”

“I want to,” Cas rushes, saying the words at the same time Gabriel shouts, “Of course he wants to!” from the other room.

Just another reason to want to kill his coworkers.

Dean’s grinning, obviously trying not to laugh at how impossibly Cas is blushing right now as he scribbles his phone number on one of the store’s business cards. He gives it to the Winchester as soon as he’s done writing, and to his relief, the man doesn’t make any comments, only taking the box his glasses were packed in and walking to the exit.

Before Dean opens the door, though, he stops and turns again, his hand on the handle. “Um… Cas?”

“Yes?”

The man smirks, his eyes sparkling from behind _these damn glasses_. “I’m sorry for not noticing just how handsome you are before.”

Without another word, he leaves, and Castiel is grateful that there are five dumb people next room who can save him if he has a heart attack.


End file.
